Elsbree."

Hilda started to rise, but a faint, white hand pressed her back and the
voice said:

"Don't rise, my dear. I know how weak you are, what you have gone
through, alone, here in this dreary place. I know what pain you have
endured, and the shame you have felt, the shame that faces you outside
in the world. It is a cruel world. To women--oh, but it is cruel! It has
no mercy for a woman who loves too well.

"If you had a lot of money you might fight it with its own weapon. Money
is the one weapon it respects. But you haven't any money, have you, my
dear? If you had, you wouldn't be here in the dark alone, would you?

"I'm afraid there is nothing ahead of you, either, but darkness, my
dear. The man you loved has deserted you, hasn't he? He is a poor, weak
thing, anyway. Even if he married you, you would probably part. He'd
always hate you. Nobody else will want you for a wife, you poor child;
you know that, don't you? And nobody will help you, because of the baby.
You couldn't find work and keep the baby with you, could you? And you
couldn't leave it. It is a weight about your neck; it will drown you in
deep waters.

"Even if it lived, it would have only misery ahead of it, for your story
would follow it through life. The older it grew, the more it would
suffer. It would despise you and itself. How much happier you would be
not to be alive at all, both of you, you poor, unwelcome things!

"There are many problems ahead of you, my dear; and you'll never solve
them, except in one way. If you were dead and asleep in your grave with
your poor little one at your breast, all your troubles would be over
then, wouldn't they? People would feel sorry for you; they wouldn't
sneer at you then. And you wouldn't mind loneliness or hunger or
pointing fingers or anything.

"Take my advice, dearie, and end it now. There are so many ways; so many
things to buy at drug-stores. And that's the river you can just see over
there. It is very peaceful in its depths. Its cool, dark waters will
wash away your sorrows. Or if that is too far for you to go, there's the
window. You could climb out on the ledge with your baby in your arms and
just step off into--peace. Take my advice, poor, lonely, little thing.
It's the one way; I know. The world will forgive you, and Heaven will be
merciful. Didn't Christ take the Magdalen into His own company and His
mother's? He will take you up into heaven, if you go now. Good-by. Don't
be afraid. G